The lights reminded him of the floodlights in a football stadium, but this wasn’t an ordinary field. The grouh him resembled grass, further adding to the stadium-like atmosphere. Only this arena was enormous—ten times the size of any stadium he’d ever seen, maybe more. Its edges stretched so far into the distahat he couldn’t make out where it ended.

  He turo look behind him, toward the spot where he’d hit his head. Standing there was a man—at least, he thought it was a man. The blinding lights obscured the figure’s face, leaving only the outline of his t frame visible. His presence was imposing, made even more so by the bulky pieetal eng his body. A knight? A cospyer?

  Gng around, Finn noticed others dressed in a simir maheir armor king faintly as they shifted. Some carried shields and swords, while others held spears or longbows. A few were robed in what looked like clerical garments, their hands resting on staffs adorned with strange symbols. It looked like they were all preparing for a battlefield.

  A role-pying vention? That made no sense. What would he be doing in a pce like that, when just a few moments ago he'd almost buro death?

  His mind raced, s through possibilities. Desperate for answers, he turned his attention back to the crowd.

  And then it clicked.

  The heavy armor, the shields, the swords and spears. The clerid their staffs. The quivers filled with arrows strapped to backs.

  There was only one pce that could host a gathering like this.

  Purgatory.

  Yes. That had to be it. He must have died… and this urgatory.

  This wasn’t hell. Hell was supposed to be a sea of fire, crawling with demons reveling in eorture—or so he’d read and heard. But there was no fire in sight. In fact, he felt far better here than he had in the burning inferno he’d escaped. No sulfurous steno grotesque creatures twisted by malice. Hell didn’t fit.

  But this wasn’t heaveher. He didn’t feel any sense of peace or bliss, only a haze of fusion and uhere were no robed figures with halos, no angelic beings with radiant white wings gliding overhead. Heaven would have been unmistakable, and this wasn’t it.

  That left purgatory—the iween. He’d read ohat souls could linger here for turies, even millennia. It made sehese people—knights, archers, soldiers—could have been warriors from medieval times, trapped here after death. Priests had often apanied armies into battle, hadn’t they?

  But theiced the robed figures carrying staffs and peared to be books csped tightly in their hands. They didn’t fit the historical image of priests or monks. Something about them was… off.

  No, it couldn’t be. Mages did in real life. They were probably just members of a religious order he wasn’t familiar with, nothing more.

  A sudden voice shattered his thoughts. It came from behind him, from the man—or what he thought was a man—he’d bumped into. The voice was deep and anding, each word resonating with an authority that made it feel hard to disobey. If only Finn could uand what he said.

  The words sounded garbled, alien. Was it Greek? Latin? Some other a nguage he couldn’t pce? Whatever it was, it didn’t belong to any nguage he knew.

  The figure shifted, stepping into the light. For the first time, Finn could see him clearly. Dark, oily hair tied ba a tight ponytail. Eyes that pierced through him, sharp yet strangely calm. A square, stubbled jaw that gave the man an air ed dignity.

  And skin as pale as the moon.

  But it wasn’t the pallor that sent Finn’s heart plummeting into his stomach.

  It was the tusks—two sharp, ivory tusks protruding from the ers of its mouth.

  Finn’s breath hitched. He cmped both hands over his mouth, choking back the scream g its his throat. His body moved on instinct, arms scrambling against the floor as he dragged himself backward, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and whatever it was.

  A demon?

  Am I actually in hell?

  Looking around again, Finn finally noticed the strange figures scattered across the field. At first ghey looked human—but the more he focused, the more he realized something was… off.

  Some had vaguely humaures, but with uling additions—long, pointed ears, thick fur that covered parts of their bodies, or tails swaying behind them as if they beloo wolves. Others had twisted faces, elongated limbs, or sharp cws where hands should have been.

  How had he not noticed them before?

  Then, his gaze drifted further, and his stomach tightewo smaller shapes stood apart from the others, their silhouettes unmistakably childlike.

  Are those… children?

  But one of the creatures, the pale man with tusks, caught his rea and spoke again, its deep voice reverberating like a low growl.

  Finn couldn’t respond. His mind was too overwhelmed by the sheer impossibility of what he was seeing. He froze, his breath caught in his throat as the pale creature began walking toward him, slow and deliberate.

  Panic kicked in, and he prepared to push himself backward again, but his back hit something solid. Anure loomed behind him, blog his retreat.

  He turned his head, and his heart nearly stopped.

  This creature was even more menag. Its face atchwork of scars, jagged and uneven, like a cracked stohat had been worn down by years of harsh weather. Its gre held no patieno passion—only violence. In its left hand, it gripped a massive sb of metal that could only be described as a greatsword, the jagged edge glinting uhe harsh lights.

  “S-sorry!” Finn stammered, scrambling to move away.

  But his attempt to escape only made things worse.

  Now, he was face-to-face with the tusked creature that had been walking toward him. Its pierg gaze locked onto him, leaving him frozen in pce.

  He briefly sidered rolling sideways—anything to avoid their looming presences—but his body refused to move. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to run, but there was o go.

  Finn stared at the creature, his mind rag with dark possibilities. What kind of tortures awaited him?

  But the creature didn’t move to harm him. It simply stood there, staring back with an iy that made Finn’s skin crawl, as though it were studying him.

  Seds dragged into what felt like a lifetime before the creature made a slow, deliberate movement. It extes arm toward him.

  Finn flinched instinctively, his heart pounding. Was this it? Was it going to grab him, crush him, or worse?

  An idea sparked in his mind—his pyrokinesis. If he could somehow use it to harm the creature in front of him, maybe it would leave him alone. But would his powers even work here? And did he have enough energy left to summon fire again?

  Finn ched his teeth and shifted his right arm behind him, firembling as he prepared. He waited, every muscle in his body tensed, his mind locked onto the creature's movements. If he could catch it off guard, just once, maybe his pn would work.

  He stood ready, focused—waiting for the creature to make its move.

  But no attack came. Instead, the outstretched arm seemed… patient. Almost inviting.

  Hesitant, and unsure why he was eveertaining the idea, Finn found himself reag out iurn. His hand trembled as it made tact with the creature's. The grip was firm but not painful, and before he could think too much about it, he was being pulled to his feet.

  Standing now, Finn searched the creature’s face for any sign of malice. He still couldn’t make sense of its expression—was it ral? Curious? Annoyed?

  Still, he felt pelled to say something. Anything.

  "Uh… thanks?" he said cautiously, his voice wavering.

  The creature tilted its head slightly, squinting at him as if trying to decipher the strange noise Finn had made.

  “ you… uh, uand English?” Finn tried again, his words slow and deliberate, as though he were talking to a fner.

  The only response he received uzzled expression.

  Before Finn could make another awkward attempt at unication, a booming voice shattered the silence, f his attention away.

  The sound came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, reverberating in his skull like it eaking directly into his mind. The nguage was pletely fn to him, every word unfamiliar, yet its power was enough to make his knees feel unsteady.

  And just as abruptly as it began, the voice fell silent, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake.

  After a few seds of heavy silence, a sudden fsh of light engulfed the area, disappearing just as quickly. Finn blinked rapidly, unsure if it was real or just a trick of his imagination.

  " you uand me now?" The booming voice returned, resonating from all dires.

  "Ah, my apologies," it tinued. "I fot you all e from different races."

  Different races?

  Before Finn could process what was happening, the voice added, "Anyway, I've already bestowed upon you the Blessing of Language, so now we all uand each other."

  "I'm Halgon, this tury's anizer for the Assion Ceremony," the voinounced.

  "For now, all you o know is that you're in a pce called The Threshold. Think of it as a waiting ground before you are all sent to the Tower of Assion, where the real ast begins. I'll expin more ter. For now, while I prepare, feel free to get to know each other. That's all for now. I'll see you all soon."

  The Threshold? Finn’s thoughts swirled. So this isn’t purgatory? And what was that about asding a tower?

  "Your face," a deep, gravelly voice cut through his fusion. "Have you crossed paths with a phoenix? Fought it, perhaps?"

  Finn turoward the void froze. The speaker was the same orc who had helped him up earlier. Now that he looked closer, the creature’s face was marked with age, its wrinkles showing the passage of time.

  The orc stood patiently, tusked and massive, but his steady expression held no malily what seemed to be curiosity, perhaps even wisdom?

  Despite the orc’s imposing size and strength, something about his presence felt... steady, almost reassuring. Finn’s unease lessened. Uanding the orc’s words now made him seem far less intimidating.

  Was this the Blessing of Language Halgon had mentiohat fsh of light—it hadn’t been his imagination.

  "Phoenix? What?" Finn responded, fused.

  "Your face," the creature tinued. "Did it get burnt by a phoenix?"

  Finn’s hand instinctively moved to his scarred cheek. "Oh... no, it's a long story."

  He gnced downward, a sense of insecurity creeping in. His scar was hard to ignore. Who wouldn't feel self-scious with something that obvious? It drew attention—and not in a good way.

  "But what was that about a phoenix?" Finn asked, trying to shift the versation.

  "You don't know what a phoenix is?" the creature asked, clearly puzzled.

  "I know what a phoenix is," Finn replied. "It's that fming bird, right? But those don’t actually exist, do they?"

  Is this some kind of joke from another culture I’m not getting?

  The creature paused, narrowing its eyes with a hint of suspi.

  "Where are you from?" The creature asked.

  "Milwaukee," Finn said, a shrug.

  "Mil-wau-kee?" The creature blinked, clearly fused.

  "Milwaukee," Fied. "Iate of Wissin? In the USA?"

  When the orc didn’t respond, Finn added, "You don’t know where that is? are you from?"

  He said it half-jokingly, assuming the person wasn’t familiar with the USA or any other tries. His outfit, his tusks—they looked like part of some tribal jewelry or decoration, not something real. He seemed like a warrior from an isoted, distant tribe.

  But the man's answer surprised him.

  "Vanov. The only habitable p iorrina System."